


The Raveled Sleeve of Care

by roane



Series: 221B Ficlets [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, M/M, Romance, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the midst of nightmares he has the face of a boy, one who has seen too much, enough for a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Raveled Sleeve of Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cellar_Door](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cellar_Door/gifts).



> [There is a podfic of this and four of my other 221Bs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/377829)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> recorded by [Cellar_Door](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cellar_Door/pseuds/Cellar_Door).

He looks younger when he’s asleep. With the golden brown fringe of his eyelashes shadowed against his cheeks, it’s possible to see the man he was ten, even fifteen years earlier. Sitting through a recruitment speech, already knowing he was going to sign up, already knowing what he was born to do.

The crease between his brows fades and smooths away—unless there’s a nightmare coming. That small line serves as a barometer for the night’s sleep to come, whether there would be soft snores or tossing and harsh mumbling from the other side of the bed. Even in the midst of nightmares he has the face of a boy, one who has seen too much, enough for a lifetime.

The laugh lines around his eyes soften. It’s possible to see the child there, the one who first laughed at his sister’s antics, the one who took great pride in knowing the dirtiest jokes of any boy in Year Six, and even more pride in sharing them. The one who left frogs in beds, ants in the sugar, the one who never dreamed of anything worse ahead than a skinned knee.

What chemical transmutations take place, what alchemy of the mind and body, that so much of John melts away with the simple fall of eyelashes to cheeks, soft and basial?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [Cellar_Door](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cellar_Door/pseuds/Cellar_Door): "John’s eyelashes. Your B word, should you choose to accept it: basial."


End file.
